The Crossing
by Starkish
Summary: Robb Stark is forced to wed a Frey before crossing the Trident. AU. (Rated M, Robb/OC)
1. Chapter 1

They all watched, transfixed on the raven that began its flight across the bridge. "Shoot it down," Robb commanded, eyeing the creature. It cawed as it flew by, and again, more a wheeze than a caw, when the arrow pierced it. Theon set down his bow and knelt beside the bird, untying the scroll that was attached to its leg, then handed it to Robb. He sighed, disgruntled. "It's a nameday message to his grandniece, Walda."

"Or so Walder Frey would have you think," Theon replied with an arched brow.

To his other side, his mother spoke out. "Keep shooting them down," she told him. "We can't risk Lord Walder sending word of your movements to the Lannisters." Her words held weight, and the men all nodded in agreement. Robb shook his head.

"He's grandfather's bannerman, we can't expect his support."

One of the men bobbed his head towards Robb. "Expect nothing of Walder Frey and you'll never be surprised." Then his eyes flickered towards the Twins and he tilted his head in that direction. "Look," he said.

Two riders were emerging from the hillside, the banners of Frey flying proudly in their hands. They were coming with word from Lord Walder, Robb assumed, and he shifted, crossing his arms. "Father rots in a dungeon... how long before they take his head? We need to cross the Trident, and we need to do it now."

"Just march up to his gates and _tell_ him you're crossing," Theon interjected. "We've got five times his numbers, we can _take_ the Twins if we have to."

Lord Umber frowned. "Not in time. Tywin Lannister marches north as we speak."

"The Freys have held the Crossing for six hundred years, and for six hundred years they have never failed to exact their toll," Catelyn said, her eyes flickering across the men's faces wearily.

Robb clenched his fist. He wasn't a patient man. He needed to cross, and now. No matter the toll. He looked to Theon. "Have my horse saddled and ready," he ordered.

"Enter the Twins alone and he'll sell you to the Lannisters as he likes," Lord Umber said incredulously.

"Or throw you in a dungeon," Theon added, eyes narrowed against the shine of the sun. "Or slit your throat."

Robb watched as the riders drew nearer and clenched his jaw. "My father would do whatever it took to secure our crossing," he said. "Whatever it took. If I'm going to be leading this army I can't have other men doing my bargaining for me."

"I agree," his mother said, pursing her lips. "I'll go."

"You can't!" Robb and Theon said simultaneously, Ser Rodrick and Lord Umber both going slackjawed.

Lady Catelyn would not be deterred. "I have known Lord Walder since I was a girl, he would never harm me," she reasoned.

"Unless there was a profit in it," Lord Umber stated boldly.

The riders were nearly there, and Catelyn looked to her son, grabbing his arm. "Let me go, and I'll return with the terms before the sun starts to set. I've known this man since I was little, I know what he's like more than any of you." Her eyes flashed across the faces of Theon, Robb, Ser Rodrick, and Lord Umber alike. Her lips pinched in pleading. "I will go, and I promise you I'll be safe."

Robb regarded her for a moment and rubbed the back of his neck in exasperation. "Fine," he allowed, sighing. "You may go."

* * *

The keep that sheltered the Freys of the Crossing was different than Catelyn remembered. The walls were danker, wetter, the floors looked old and worn and grey. Still, she entered the castle with her head held high, and walked straight to the throne room, where Lord Walder sat. He looked old and pasty, his head balded and his skin flaccid and brittle. On his lap sat a young lady with soft brown hair that fell to her shoulders and a pinched chin. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice little more than a wheezing croak.

"It is a great pleasure to see you again after so many years, my lord," Catelyn said, bowing her head respectfully.

"Oh spare me," Lord Walder drawled, narrowing his eyes. "Your boy is too proud to come before me himself... What am I supposed to do with you?" His hand, once on the young lady's back, had slid to her bottom, and she looked down shamefully, unable to meet Catelyn's eyes.

"Father, you forget yourself," one of his son's insisted, "Lady Stark is a-"

"- who asked you?" Lord Frey bellowed angrily. "You're not Lord Frey yet, not until I die. Do I look dead to you?"

"Father, please," came another son's intervention.

"I need lessons in courtesy from you, bastard?" he growled, giving his other son a sharp, cold glance. "Your mother would still be a milkmaid if I hadn't squirted you into her belly." Catelyn looked at her boots, mouth pressed in a firm line. She did not recall Lord Walder ever being a kind soul, but this brutal man was not what she expected. "Alright, you," he ushered, "come forward."

She hesitated a moment, then took the five steps that stood between them. She held out her hand, and he planted a sloppy, dry kiss on the back of it. "There," he grunted, "now that I've observed the courtesies, perhaps my sons will do me the honor of shutting their mouths." The two men both looked down, embarrassed, and Catelyn repressed a sigh.

"Is there somewhere we can... talk?" she asked. There were watery brown eyes all around them, and this was no conversation for the masses.

"We're talking right now," Walder Frey insisted, raising a brow. She held a firm gaze on him, and after a moment he understood her. "Fine," he said, "Out! All of you!" He slapped the young lady on his lap's bottom and added, "you too."

She rose and made her way out of the room quietly. "Do you see that?" Lord Frey asked, rising to stand beside Catelyn. "Fifteen she is. A little flower," he licked his lips and grinned, "and her honey's all mine."

"I'm sure she will give you many sons," was all Catelyn could say, turning to face him as he passed by her to stand before the hearth.

"Your father didn't come to the wedding," he noted, warming his hands in the flames.

"He is quite ill, my lord," she replied.

"He didn't come to the last one either," Walder Frey said bluntly, "or the one before that. Your family has always pissed on me."

"My lord, I-"

"- don't deny it, you know it's true," he said, shaking his head. "Fine Lord Tully would never marry any of his children to mine."

Catleyn rounded to him. "I'm sure there were reasons why," she insisted.

"I didn't need reasons," he replied, turning from the fire. "I needed to get rid of sons and daughters. You see how they pile up?" He grabbed the tail of his cloak and held it up so his rump could be warmed by the flickering flames. "Why are you here?" he asked.

"To ask you to open your gates, my lord," Catelyn said directly. "So my son and his bannermen can cross the Trident and be on their way."

"Why should I let him?" he wondered, narrowing his eyes.

"If you could climb your own battlements you could see that he had twenty thousand men outside your walls," she replied levelly.

Walder Frey scoffed. "They'll be twenty thousand corpses when Tywin Lannister gets here. Don't try and fight me, Lady Stark. Your husband's in a cell beneath the Red Keep, and your son's got no fur to keep his balls warm."

"You swore an oath to my father," she replied, heat rising to her cheeks.

"Oh yes, I said some words," Walder returned. "But then, I swore oaths to the crown too, if I remember right. Joffrey's king now, which make your boy and his corpses to be nothing but rebels, it seems to me," he barked. "If I had the sense the gods gave a fish I'd hand you both over to the Lannisters."

"Why don't you?" Catelyn asked, raising a brow.

"Stark, Tully, Lannister, Baratheon... give me one good reason why I should waste a single thought on any of you."

"Because if my son crosses the Trident there will be nothing to stop him from getting his justice, and you, my lord, will be on the winning side of this battle." Catelyn's words were steel, and Lord Walder eyed her, pursing his lips.

"Nothing? The Lannisters are nothing to you?" His words were quizzical and challenging.

She stood her ground. "Yes."

After a moment he relented. "Fine," he said. "You may cross." She exhaled quickly, not remembering when she last took so deep a breath. "But I want something in return."

"Anything," Catelyn replied.

Walder Frey smirked. "Very well. I shall have one of my sons, Olyvar, as your boy's personal squire. I want a knighthood soon. And two others will be sent to Winterfell to ward."

Catelyn nodded. "That's fine," she agreed.

"I want my younger boy, Waldren, to marry your daughter, too," he added.

"Sansa is already betrothed, my lord," Catelyn replied. It choked her to admit it, and she'd done her best to forget her eldest daughter's position.

"I'm no fool, I know that," he replied briskly. "I meant the other one. The younger one. They can wait to wed until they're older, I suppose, but I want it done."

"Arya." She would not like that at all, but Catelyn nodded her head all the same. They needed to cross. Whatever it took. "Anything else, my lord?" she asked.

The old man smiled. "Aye. I want your son to wed one of my daughters."

At that Catelyn went numb. Robb was still so young. "When we return from the south I'm sure my son would be more than grateful to claim one of your daughters," she began, but Lord Walder raised a hand to her.

"I'll have them wedded and bedded by evenfall, my lady. How could I trust him to keep his word once he's crossed? It will be tonight or not at all."

Her mouth went dry. Robb said he would to do anything to cross. Anything at all. "May I have a look at your daughters?" she asked wearily.

"Only have two close to his age," Walder replied shortly. " _Waldyn_ ," he shouted. A small, weasel-faced boy appeared in the room immediately. "Fetch Roslin and Julianna." The boy ran off at once, and Catelyn waited anxiously for his return. When he came back, there were two shadows behind him.

Both girls were indeed Robb's age, very young and rather dainty, the lot of them. One was taller than the other, with light brown hair that fell to her waist and pale, pale skin. Her brown eyes were glossy, as though she'd been roused from sleep. Catelyn hadn't noticed how late it was getting. "This is Roslin," Lord Frey introduced with a flick of his wrist. She offered a shy smile, revealing a set of pearly teeth, a gap in the middle of them. It only made her more charming.

Beside her stood another young girl, perhaps a year her junior, with hair far darker and far curlier than her sister's, which fell to the small of her back. Her skin was pale as well, and her eyes were large, like a hunted doe, shining pale green in the firelight. When Catelyn neared she could see a dusting of pale freckles across the bridge of her upturned nose and on the tops of her cheekbones. "That one is Julianna," Walder said. When she smiled there was no gap between her teeth. "Finest girls in my lot, they are. Pretty enough to tempt your boy?"

Catelyn pursed her lips. They were both lovely creatures indeed, far lovelier than she'd expected of one of his daughters. "I shall speak with my son on the matter. We will return soon."

That was enough for Walder Frey. He smiled and spanked the girls on the bottoms to usher them away. "I'm eager to meet this boy of yours, my lady. Or perhaps, I shall call him _my_ boy? By the night's end he'll be my goodson under the eyes of the gods." It was the first and last time Catelyn Stark thought of _that_.

* * *

It was dark before Robb could see his mother enter the tent, her cloak drawn close to her, to shield herself from the cold winds that rose from the Trident. The men all rose as he did, and he pursed his lips. Her expression told nothing. "Well?" he asked, "What did he say?"

His mother bowed her head. "Lord Walder has granted your crossing," she said. They all looked to one another in relief, and Robb sighed, a weight lifted from his shoulders. "His men are yours as well, plus the four hundred he will keep here to hold the Crossing against any who would pursue you."

"And what does he want in return?" Robb asked, curious at the Frey forces being sent to his aid.

"You will be taking on his son, Olyvar, as your personal squire," Catelyn told him, "he expects a knighthood in good time."

"Fine, fine," Robb agreed. But his mother looked nervous. There was more. "And?"

"And Arya... will marry his son Waldren when they both come of age," she continued.

"She won't be happy about that," Robb said, frowning. His mother smiled and nodded in agreement, then sighed. There was more yet. "And?" he asked again, furrowing his brows.

"And... Now, before we may cross, you will marry one of his daughters. Whichever you prefer. He had a number he thinks will be... suitable."

"I see." It was all Robb could muster. His heart felt as heavy as a broadsword. "Did... did you get a look at his daughters?" he asked nervously. Beside him, Theon chuckled under his breath.

"I did," his mother replied, nodding her head. "There were two he showed me. Roslin and Julianna. They were both pretty." Robb looked away, sighing heavily. "Do you consent?" she asked.

"Can I refuse?"

"Not if you want to cross."

Robb's lips were firmly pressed. "Then I consent."

* * *

They entered the Twins within the hour. Robb had changed into cleaner garb and his mother carried in her arms a cloak with the sigil of their House to use in the ceremony. He walked quickly, wanting to get this done and past, so he might continue his campaign to the south come morning. "There he is," came an old, wizened voice. Robb looked up to see an old man, bald and rat-like in his features. "Robb Stark, come to see me himself." He clenched his jaw at that, but let the slight pass. "I expect you'll be wanting to see the girls, eh? To pick your bride?"

"If it please you," Robb replied through his teeth. He could do without the blatant crudeness, but then, by morning he would be far gone, and he could leave his wife at the Twins until the war was done. There was no need to bring a woman into a war camp, and Robb wasn't inclined to look upon any version of Lord Walder's face each morning as he woke.

"What would please me would be getting one of these buggers out of my hair. _Girls_!" Lord Frey snapped, and out from the shadows came two dainty figures. He swallowed hard, expecting the worst, but felt the warmth of pleasant surprise when the light shined on them. They were both pretty girls, as his mother had promised. "To the right is Roslin, and on the left is Julianna. Take one or both to bride, I haven't a care either way."

Robb's eyes first glanced right. Roslin was at least a head taller than her sister, though she was still small. Her frame was narrow, her eyes were warm and brown, and her hair, a lighter brown, hung straight to her hips. When she smiled at him- nervously at that- he could see the small gap in her teeth. His eyes swung left, then.

Julianna Frey was the smaller of the two sisters, and, Robb thought, from a different mother. Her hair was darker than Roslin's, almost black, and curled softly to the small of her back. Her eyes were wide and round and anxious, a soft green color. She was pale, like her sister, and across the bridge of her upturned nose were faint freckles that Robb hardly noticed until she bowed her head. Her father snapped at her to look up and smile for him, and she did. Her teeth had no gap.

"Well?" Walder Frey asked, impatient. "Choose."

Robb went back and forth between them. There would be no reason to choose one way or the other, yet he felt his eyes grace over the younger of the two, with the dark brown curls. Her eyes met his, and he could feel her fear. He'd known the same fear, when he first called upon the banners, and again when word of his father's capture reached him. She seemed weaker than her sister, but he couldn't look away. She seemed pleasant enough, and fair to be sure. "Her," he called out, nodding to Lady Julianna.

He watched as more panic flooded through her and he wondered for a moment if he made the wrong choice. It was too late to change his mind. She was being whisked away by her sister, to be readied, he presumed, and Lord Walder called for a feast. Beside him, his mother pursed her lips. "She is weaker," she told him.

Robb nodded. "I know," he replied. He should have picked Roslin, the taller, stronger looking one, but there was no going back. Instead he steeled himself and followed Lord Frey to the greathall, where, within moments, he would be wed.

* * *

Julianna hadn't a moment to think from the time that she was dragged from her bed to be inspected by Lady Stark till now, as her sister Roslin helped her from her bedgown into a finer gown of dark green that went well with her eyes. It all happened so suddenly that, now she had a moment alone, she didn't know _what_ to think. All she could register was her fear. That morning she'd woken and expected nothing of the day. Tomorrow morning she would wake and be a wife. The idea frightened her, almost as much as her intended did.

Robb Stark was a tall, burly sort, with dark auburn hair and blue eyes that pierced her when he looked at her. He seemed the type that could be cruel, but she hoped with all her heart that he would be kind, the way she expected his mother was. She hadn't spoken to Lady Stark herself, but the woman had smiled warmly at her, albeit with pity in her eyes.

"Shall we pin your hair up?" Roslin asked, holding a silver-backed brush in her left hand.

Julianna shook her head. "No, I... I think we should leave it. There's no time."

Her sister nodded and instead went to brushing out her curls quietly. Julianna felt a pang of worry that her sister was angry at her for being picked by Robb, but the thought was foolish. She and Roslin were thick as thieves. She couldn't imagine that her sister held any contempt with her for being thrust into marriage with a stranger.

After she was readied and she'd donned boots and gloves, Roslin draped a cloak across her shoulders. It was the old, worn cloak their father used to drape over his wives when they wed. It smelled of mildew and dust, but she did her best not to notice. Roslin smiled weakly at her. "You are lovely," she said.

Julianna took her sister's hand and felt herself shake. "Thank you."

Robb Stark was waiting for her at the end of the hall. He was facing away from her, speaking lowly with the Septon. Her father had come on her left, taking her arm and helping her down the isle between the long tables. Her brothers and sisters all sat, watching as she went. Lady Catelyn was there too, and offered another warm, pitiful smile. She couldn't find the courage to return it.

When she reached Robb, he turned, taking in the sigh of her. Whatever he thought in that moment, whether it be regret, remorse, or worse, it mattered little. The Septon bound their hands together with a silk ribbon and they said their words, and as Robb tore away her Frey cloak and draped her in the silvers of House Stark, pressing his lips to hers, she knew it was over. She was his and he was hers, from that day until the end of their days.

* * *

No time was wasted. As soon as they'd said their words they were sat down to eat, and only moments later her father was calling for the bedding. In truth, Julianna knew very little of what to expect on her wedding night. Her only knowledge on the subject was given to her by her father just before Robb had arrived. He told her there would be pain and she would bleed, and it had stricken fear into her heart.

She must have been noticeably terrified, for she felt a large, warm hand rest over her own. When she looked up, she saw it was her husband's hand. She tried to smile, but couldn't. He gripped her hand a little tighter, then, and clenched his jaw. "There will be no bedding ceremony tonight," he announced, his words ringing off the walls though he barely spoke over a whisper.

"There must be proof," her father insisted, but her husband had none of it.

"You'll get your proof. In the morning. Tonight we'll be leaving in peace." His face softened as he looked back at her and they both rose, exiting the hall hand in hand. When they were far enough away Robb stopped and looked down at her. She could feel his breath on her cheeks, he was so close. "I... I don't know where we should go," he said sheepishly, and she smiled, feeling less intimidated as he asked her for directions to her chamber.

"This way," she said, tugging on his sleeve. He followed without a word, and when they reached the chamber he bolted the door behind them. She eyed him quizzically.

"So they can't spy on us," he explained, and she nodded, looking away. Suddenly she felt cold. As if the understanding of what they would soon have to do had seeped into her bones and chilled her. It wasn't a pleasant sensation, and she felt fear creeping back into her. A hand was on her shoulder. "We don't have to," he murmured, looking down on her.

Julianna shook her head. "It is my duty and my honor to please my husband," she told him eyes wide.

He left her side for a moment and returned with a flask of wine, which had been left to gather dust on her vanity. Olyvar had left it there two weeks passed. "They won't know the difference. It's red, all the same."

She pursed her lips and felt relief flood through her. "Thank you, my lord," she breathed shakily, taking his hand as they went to her bed. Her chambers were small and cramped, but they sufficed enough for a bed, a vanity, and a hearth. They climbed into her bed and Robb opened the flask, dripping some of the aged wine onto her sheets. It absorbed quickly, and faded from a bright red to a dull brownish crimson, the same color as dried blood.

"There," he said, draining the rest of the wine and tossing the flask behind the vanity. "You should rest," he told her, settling in to the furs. "It'll be a long day tomorrow, and we leave at dawn."

"You want me to go with you?" It seemed an ill omen to bring ones wife to war with them, but Robb nodded after a moment and she curled up beside him, not quite touching his skin. "Good night, Robb," she breathed after a few minutes, when she'd thought him asleep.

It was only when she was asleep herself that he replied, his voice a soft whisper in the dark. "Goodnight."

* * *

 **AN** : Please feel free to comment and critique! I'd love some feedback on how you like the story so far!


	2. Chapter 2

Julianna had never ridden a horse before. Her father couldn't afford to buy each of his children a horse, so he left it to their own devices. If they could pay for a horse, they could own one, and being a young lady with no means to gain coin other than her small pension, which went to buying her new gowns when she outgrew them, she went without a mount her whole fourteen years.

It never occurred to her that she would be riding a horse, rather than riding in a carriage or even on the back of a wagon, but she could see now why that wouldn't do. The northmen were a strong lot. Their leader's wife couldn't very well be pampered to a comfortable seat in a wheelhouse or on a cart if they were left to ride. Still, as she strolled up to the mount Lord Umber had given her to borrow, fear filled her. It was her duty as much as it was her dread.

"When we are settled at Riverrun, you may pick a horse, my lady, but as it is this is the only free mount we've got," Lord Umber said, not unkindly but not warmly, either.

The mount in question was an old grey beast, thick at the waist and strong looking. When she neared him he eyed her and she shrunk under his stare. "I thank you for allowing me to use him," Julianna replied with as much dignity as she could muster.

In one fluid motion Lord Umber had grabbed her at the waist and lifted her into the seat, as one might do with a small child. She might have had the grace to be embarrassed by it, if she weren't so terrified. She nearly froze as the beast beneath her shifted and started to trot. She hadn't been fully settled, and would have all but fallen on her bottom if a steady hand hadn't reached out and grabbed her, pulling her back on the saddle.

"Forgive me," she began, but when she looked up her eyes caught the familiar blue of her husband's own eyes. She flushed, looking away. "I am new to riding, my lord," she explained sheepishly, grabbing the reins a bit tighter.

"I was new to it once, too," he said reassuringly, patting the withers of her borrowed mount. The horse whinnied in response. "I'll be riding at the front, today," he said, and she looked up, meeting his eyes. He was the one looking away now, so she focused on his features, on his full cheeks and the reddish scruff that was collecting there. His beard was a lighter auburn than the curls atop his head. "I will have my mother ride at your side, so you aren't alone."

"Thank you, my lord," she replied, watching as he rode off.

He'd been awkward near her since they broke their fasts together that morn. Her father had the maids wave the sheets for all to see, jesting that she would be sore in the saddle that day. Julianna had looked away, ashamed, even though it wasn't truly her blood that stained the bedsheets. Robb seemed irritated more than embarrassed, and left the greathall in haste. They hadn't spoke since then, that is, until he saved her from falling from her horse. She wondered if they would ever be able to talk together without tension between them, or if he would always condemn her as a wife he was forced into marrying. She supposed she hadn't a say either way.

* * *

Catelyn watched as Robb's new wife struggled to stay in the saddle. She was small and lithe, so light in weight that one bouncy trot of her mount sent her nearly catapulting off his back. She would be bruised, there was no doubt in Catelyn's mind of that, but she was holding on all the same, keeping her face neutral though she was sure the young girl was in pain. She admired her gooddaughter's strength. It seemed she had more of it than either she or Robb had thought. He would be pleased to hear it.

"How do you feel?" Catelyn asked her as she reared her horse near Julianna's, offering a small smile when she looked up.

Julianna looked like she might be sick. "I am well, my lady, thank you," she replied, her voice tiny and weary.

"You get used to it," Catelyn said, trying to encourage her. The words seemed to do little to comfort, however, so she tried again, her voice more serious now. "When Ned and I were first married, it was a situation much like your own. My hand was traded for a few hundred of my father's men, and my sister Lysa's as well. I'd never met Ned before. In fact, I was betrothed to his brother Brandon... but when he was gone, my father offered me to Ned. We were wedded and bedded and he was gone the next morning. He left me with Robb in my belly and I didn't see him again for a whole year."

"A whole year?" As Catelyn spoke, Julianna worked to find a comfortable seat on the saddle, and was riding with a little more confidence now.

"A whole year," Catelyn affirmed, nodding. "We were at war when I married Ned, and he had to ride off as soon as he woke. It was... hard. I won't deny the challenge of it, but I would do it a thousand times over if it meant I could have Ned in the end."

She watched as the girl's lips pursed. "Mayhaps in the future Robb and I can share the same affection that you and Lord Stark do," she said quietly, offering a weak, unconvincing smile as she looked over to Catelyn.

Catelyn felt a pang of pity for the girl and reached out, patting her hand. "I hope so."

* * *

Robb watched from afar as his wife halted her mount and was helped from the saddle at the end of the day. They'd been riding since morning and now stars filled the sky. His mother advised they take it slower, to ease his new wife into the hardships of travel which she had been unaccustomed to, but leisure travel was not a luxury the north could afford. Still, he felt a surge of guilt wash over him at watching her face contort in pain as she was pulled from the saddle and set on her feet by Ser Rodrick. She did not cry, and if she whimpered he could not hear it over the sound of their camp being erected.

When he first chose Julianna, he regretted it. He thought she was weaker than her sister, Roslin, had been. But he was pleasantly surprised that she was stronger than she seemed. She'd wanted to bed, even if there was pain, even if they were strangers, because that was what was expected of her. Robb hadn't been so strong. And she'd ridden all day on a tricky mount without a word of complaint. He wondered if Roslin could have boasted such a thing.

His eyes met her's for a moment, and she fell into a curtsey under his stare. He knew it must have hurt, but she held it until, when she looked back up at him from under her lashes, he bobbed his head for her to rise. As she neared, he held his arm out for her. "My lady," he greeted, not unkindly, "forgive the fast pace of the day. I know it must have been hard on you."

"No harder than I expected, my lord," she replied, taking his arm. He nodded at her response, guiding her to their tent.

"Was my mother fine company?" he asked, looking down at Julianna. Her dark brown curls were wind licked and wild, and her soft green eyes were tired. Still, when she looked up and smiled at him all her weariness melted away and he could see a hint of happiness in her features. It made his chest feel tight.

"I was enraptured by her presence. She is a very kind woman."

Robb nodded, smiling a little himself. "Indeed." They reached the tent and he drew back the canvas for her. "Bring a bath," he instructed a nearby maid, "and super for the lady." The maid nodded and went to fulfill her duty, and Robb turned his attention back to his wife. She was pulling her scarf away very slowly, revealing a long, thin, white neck. Dark hair draped alongside it as she pushed her hair one way to unclasp a necklace. After a moment of watching her struggle, Robb went and helped her.

"Thank you," she said quietly as he unhooked the necklace and set it on the table beside them. When she turned to face him he felt his chest tighten once more, but with anticipation or anxiety, he didn't know. They just stood there for a moment, standing in close proximity, their eyes searching one another's. And then the tent flap opened and Julianna turned away, quicker than he could even blink.

"Here is supper, my lady, and a warm bath," said the maid Robb had enlisted earlier, entering with two men flanked behind her. They carried a copper tub full of buckets of steaming water, and in the woman's hands was a tray with wine and some food.

Julianna looked up at Robb with confusion riddling her features. "Are you not dining with me, my lord?" she asked when the servants had gone.

He flexed his fingers and clenched his fist, pursing his lips. "No," he said. "I'm holding council with the lords. We march on Riverrun, soon."

"Soon?" She turned her back to him and lifted a hand to her lower lip, tugging on it in worry. "How soon?"

"A few days time." He could see her tense, her muscles tightening in fear. "You've naught to worry about, my lady. I shall return."

When she eyed him over her shoulder he could feel her worry in his body, rattling his bones. "As you say, my lord."

He didn't say another word, but pressed a dry, chaste kiss to her cheek before turning away and taking his leave.

* * *

Julianna slid into the bath tentatively, wincing as the hot water cupped her, seeping into every crevice of her body. The welts that had developed on her thighs from riding screamed at her, and she clenched her jaw so she would not follow suit. Instead, she waited for the water to carry her, envelope her, and lift her into the nothingness of the bath basin. After a moment, there was no pain at all. She knew by the morrow she would be blistered and bloodied once more, but she indulged in the momentary relief, sighing as she floated in the water.

She wondered what her husband was doing. He'd told her there was to be a council held that night, but he hadn't told her how long it would run. Long enough to keep him from supping with her, as he'd had only one tray sent to their tent, but would it be so long that she would be abed by the time he returned? He would be fretfully tired come morning if he had so little sleep, but then, she assumed he was more or less used to that aspect of his campaign by now.

Or maybe not. She knew little of Robb, too little to make her mind up of him. They'd only been wed for a day, and spent only precious few moments together. She wanted to be a good wife to him, but it was rather clear he didn't intend to treat her as a wife so much as a companion. He hadn't even bedded her on their wedding night, and while she'd been grateful at the time it was starting to sink in that he might never bed her at all, and a marriage unconsummated was a marriage easily set aside. Perhaps he was saving that option in case he met a more charming lady than she, or perhaps a prettier one. Julianna was not daft, she knew she wasn't a prize. Her freckles marred her pale skin and she was too small, too thin. The maester at the Twins had told her a few years prior that it would be difficult to hold a child, with her narrow hips. Perhaps Robb was waiting to meet a broader hipped woman to bear his sons and carry his name.

As it was, the northmen still called Julianna a Frey. Since 'Lady Stark' was a title saved for Lady Catelyn, the men called Julianna 'Lady Julianna' or 'Lady Frey'. Of course, she'd only been travelling with them for a day's time and they were still hesitant about her company, so it made perfect sense that they would refer to her as her maiden name, but it only aided to her suspicion that Robb would cast her off eventually, in favor for a better woman than she, a woman more suited for her role.

A maid entered the tent then, pulling Julianna from her mind. "It's Lady Stark, my lady," she announced.

Realizing she was still in the tub, Julianna immediately covered herself in a heavy robe and stepped out, the welts on the back of her thighs howling with every movement. "See her in," she said, "and please take the tub away, I've finished with it."

"Yes, my Lady Frey," the maid said, falling into a curtsey and opening the flap of the tent for Lady Stark to enter.

Julianna's goodmother was a handsome woman. She entered the tent like a queen, her head high, her shoulders back, her posture straight. Long auburn curls bounced at the small of her back as she walked, the blue of her gown bringing out the sheen of her eyes. "Julianna," she greeted warmly, "I would have waited for you to dress if you'd have told me."

She flushed, looking down at her robe and suddenly feeling naked and ashamed. She held the robe tight to her body. "I was not thinking, forgive me, my lady. I hope my undress does not offend you..."

"Of course not," Lady Catelyn said dismissively, but not unkindly. She pulled a small jar from the sleeve of her gown and smiled knowingly, handing it to Julianna. "I've snagged it from the maester's tent. It's a salve for your blisters. You are to apply twice a day, once in the morn and again in the night."

Julianna was red once more. "Oh, my lady, I cannot accept... I mean... H-How do you know of my blisters? Are they so terribly obvious?" In the same instant she pulled the back of her robe around to check if the open blisters had bled through the fabric, and felt relief when they had not.

"No, child, not at all," her goodmother replied, tutting with motherly affection, "I simply remembered from when I first got settled in the saddle, I had the most horrendous sores afterwards. I thought you might be the same."

"That is very kind, my lady," she whispered bashfully, embarrassed by her reaction. "Thank you." She took the salve from Lady Catelyn and set on the table by the cot, watching as the auburn-haired woman sat in a chair across from her. Julianna feigned to stay standing, and her goodmother didn't seem bothered by it.

"How are you settling? Has Robb come to see you?" Catelyn asked inquisitively.

Julianna pursed her lips. "He led me to the tent and ordered my bath and sup, then he went to his council meeting," she said.

Her goodmother looked irritated, then. "Had he any sense of chivalry, he would be here with you, making sure you were well settled and comfortable," the older woman drawled, frowning. Then her expression lightened. "Ah, no matter. You are both still so young. There will be plenty of time for getting to know one another now that you're married."

Julianna tried a smile. "I suppose so, my lady."

"I know you're scared," Lady Catelyn said suddenly, the change of topic taking Julianna off guard. "Robb is as well. He marches with over twenty thousand men at his command, and now has a wife, all before he is even sixteen. You're both young, but you've got all the time in the world to become friends, and, when the time comes, more than that." Her goodmother reached out a hand and Julianna took it, feeling the hot prickle of tears in her eyes.

"What... what if he _never_ wants me?" The words were so quiet one might not have heard them if they were directly beside her. "What if he... what if he wants another? My... my lady we never... never... what if he takes another and gives me back to my father?" The idea of returning to her father, of returning to his ire and his beatings, was what scared her more than being cast off by Robb. She couldn't return to the Crossing.

"What do you mean you never?" Lady Catelyn's eyes went wide. "Did Robb not... bed you?"

Julianna's mouth puckered shut and her tears stopped. Robb had told her not to tell anyone, not a soul, that he hadn't taken his rights that night. "I..."

"Fret not, child, I won't tell," her goodmother breathed, exasperated. "I had feared as much, but when the maids ran around with the stained sheets..."

"It was wine," Julianna confided quietly, looking away. She was ashamed; of not being desirable, of not being good enough for Lady Catelyn's son. "Forgive me, my lady, I _did_ try... I offered myself, but Lord Robb didn't want..."

"Shh," Lady Catelyn said, rising and embracing her. Julianna wasn't used to the affection that her goodmother liked to extend to her, and stood stiffly as the woman held her. "I won't speak to Robb, or anyone else. I shall keep your secret," she told Julianna, cupping her cheek as she pulled away. "I see that I've upset you, so I shall leave you be. Rest well, it will be another long day tomorrow."

Julianna watched as she left, and felt lonely when she was gone, curling up on the cot. She took the moment of solitude to be something less than strong, and wrapped around herself, her arms curling under her knees, pulling them to her chin. She let the tears loose, sniffling snot away, feeling as the hot, salty streams dripped down her cheeks and nose. She was more than scared. She was terrified.

Being thrust from her home and into the arms of the northern rebellion was a frightening thing indeed, and she was alone in it all. Lady Catelyn was kindly, but she was Robb's mother, not Julianna's. _Her_ mother lay dead in a field by the Twins. And Robb... wanted more to do with a _squirrel_ than her, she was sure of it. So she lay there, sobbing quietly, all on her own. Come morning she would don her best smile and try again to master her seat on the saddle, but for now, in the confidence of her empty tent, she let it all out.

* * *

 **AN** : Wow, wow, wow! Thank you all for the kind words of encouragement and thank you for all the follows and favorites! I didn't expect this to be so popular! I hope this chapter does not disappoint. No big things happening here, but you get some insight to each of the characters and how they feel, and to me, character building is just as important as driving a plotline. Anyways, the next chapter will be the taking of Riverrun, so there will be plenty of action in the mix then. Thanks for reading!


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